A Letter (P1)

Forward

My father passed away in the early morning on May 8th, 2012. He had been sick for a while, probably longer than I realized at the time. I had just got to know my father again, about 5 years prior, after several years of estrangement. My father left his family life when I was 10, and there is a separate story there for another time. I don't know much about my father's life, but what I do know is enough. My father had an unhappy childhood and was drafted into the Military during the Vietnam war. He struggled for years with mental illness and after he left us, a new identity as an openly gay man. He went to culinary school, worked in various cooking jobs, and started a range of hobbies from dying fabric to quilting. My father always loved to grow things and worked for several years at a local State owned botanical garden. Towards the end of his life he worked at a small adult store and spent the rest of his time at home with his long-time partner. When my father passed away he left behind a small “gentleman’s farm,” which contained several birds, rabbits, and a large veggie garden that local restaurants utilized. My father was always a doer, a helper, and always wanted people to feel safe and needed. I think he regretted not having a life with his children, but my father was complicated. At the end of everything, I got to be his daughter, and he let me.

The night my father died was a culmination of history. It was an ending to a story that was never truly told. I never really knew my father as a complete person, but I knew parts of him. I knew what he wanted me to know and what my Mother would tell me. The night before my father died he was seen writing for hours. 7 years later I still have no idea why or what that was about. Maybe he mailed a letter somewhere, maybe he asked his friends to burn it, or maybe it wasn’t anything at all. I have an image of my father writing a letter to his children telling us everything. But, that’s my wish. I’ve moved on knowing how much my father loved me, remembering our final conversations and stories from close friends after his death. I was able to put pieces together and hear how proud he was of his children through the lens of his past and present. Although distant he remained close.

The following letter was written several days after my father died. I wanted to write my truth, I wanted to capture the final events of my father’s life because he no longer had a voice, or a choice. I felt it was my turn to tell a version of his story. The people in this letter were close to my father and myself at the time of his death. My partner at the time, Marco, was doing his best to navigate through everything. The others, Cathy and Paul, were taking care of my father while his partner, Alan, was away. My siblings, Marcus, Anna and Emily were in various locations on this night and have their own stories to share. At the time I was working as an inpatient social worker at a nearby hospital close to where my father passed away. I knew several of the staff members caring for him. It was surreal.

I wrote the following letter a few days later. I was sitting in a large chair in a small room lit by natural light. This was written to my father so the “you” in this letter is referring to him. I wrote for hours, pouring out what I remembered. I didn’t want to forget. It’s taken me a while to get this organized because in the beginning it was a stream of consciousness. I am sharing this because I think my Dad would have liked the tribute. He was a storyteller. He was an artist. I want to have some memory out there of him, even if it’s just for me. I love you, Dad.

What I never told you

It was a regular day and I was participating in my regular evening routine. Marco was in the kitchen making some food for us. We had just discussed what we wanted to eat, I can’t remember exactly what that was, but it was something easy. The sun had gone down so it was later in the evening, I’d say around 8. It had been a long year dealing with my tenuous relationship and your hospital visits, realtors and strangers coming in and out of our rental throughout the day. Marco and I were trying to figure out our future. I was not prepared for the next 24 hours.

I sat down on the couch in front of the television. My phone was sitting on the coffee table in front of me. Marco had gotten me an iPhone and I was still figuring out how to use it. I chose a quacking ring tone because it made me giggle. As soon as the phone started to ring, I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. My heart dropped as the ill-omened quacks filled the room.

“Dad’s House” came across the screen. You had been so sick and somewhere inside I was expecting this call. I answered with a “Hi Dad,” but it wasn’t you. It was a distressed female voice on the other end.

“Hi Morgan, this is Cathy." I had met Alan's sister once before.

"Hello, Cathy." I responded knowing bad news was coming.

"Your father is being loaded up into the ambulance, they’re going to take him to the hospital, they think this is serious, he’s not breathing right and he’s unconscious.” Cathy was panicking.

“Well, we’ve been waiting for this” and I guess I had been. I stayed calm and ensured Cathy that I would meet her at the hospital. It’s the social worker in me I guess, always suppressing my own panic. I was hoping to never deal with this. I didn’t want you to be sick. I didn’t think you were going to die this soon. I wasn’t listening to my own logic; I didn’t want you to go. I wasn’t ready.

I hung up the phone. I was already standing and Marco had already started getting things together. He heard the panic in my own voice, “Dad’s on his way to the hospital, it doesn’t sound good.” He didn’t say anything, just nodded and continued to grab things. I ran into the bedroom, threw on some warmer clothes and stood by the door. The dog was put in his crate and the lights were turned off. We got into the car and headed to the hospital. On the way we called Anna and let her know what was happening. I don’t remember what I said to her. I tried calling your other children as well, but I didn’t get an answer. Anna said that she would continue trying and was on her way. I got another call from Cathy telling us that you were being flown to another cardiac ICU and she would meet us there.

Once we got to the hospital I didn’t know where to find you. We went thought the emergency room where a security guard led us to an elevator, then to a hallway, then to another elevator, which took us to a dark waiting room. On the way up Marco kept looking at me. I knew he wanted to help, he wanted to say something comforting, but he just held my hand and followed. Once we walked into the waiting room, another family was sitting in a corner. There were many children and maybe one adult in there. The children were crying and pacing the floor. We went to the ICU entrance, which was two large locked doors with a small button on the right. Above it read, “ring for the nurse.” I pushed it and after a short silence a very feminine “Hello” spoke from a small speaker.

“Hi, my name is Morgan and I believe my father is back there.” I gave her my last name.

“Yes, he’s here, we’re just getting him settled. Once he is stable we’ll have someone come and get you.”

“How long do you think that will be?” I said with a panicked pushy voice

“We’ll have someone come and get you.”

“Okay?” It was going to be a long time.

I know hospitals and I understand that there are no definite timelines for these things. This time was different, I was the daughter and I wanted to see my father. I couldn’t bear the thought of you being alone and scared, I wanted to break the doors down. Marco grabbed my hand and we walked over to see if anyone else was waiting. We walked around the oval shaped waiting room. Most of the lights were off and sparse amounts of people were sitting in dark corners. The children I saw before were congregated on one side of the room, small sniffling sounds and voices echoed through the space. The waiting room was at the top of the hospital, so you could see the cityscape. The city was strangely dark that night. The lights of the city didn’t seem as bright, as if everyone was hiding, knowing I was looking down on them. Marco and I found a place to sit and waited. There wasn’t much to do other than read old magazines and try to find something to talk about. Cathy and Paul eventually showed up, they had been there before but had decided to go for a walk.

I didn’t ask before and I should have, I didn’t know where Alan was. Cathy and Paul came over and we hugged it out. I hadn’t seen Paul in long time, I knew he was a friend of yours, but I would have been around 10 the last time I saw him.

“Alan’s out of town in Washington, DC,” Cathy whispered as she pulled out of a hug.

“Mom received the honor to lay a flag on the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Alan decided to go with her and Paul and I stayed behind to take care of your Dad. Alan wanted to stay, but your father wanted him to go.”

“Does Alan know what’s happening?” I asked though tears.

“Yes, we called him this morning when your dad wasn’t looking good.”

“What happened?” I was confused, I was sad. I didn’t know what I was feeling at this point, but I hate being out of the loop and I was completely out of touch.

“Your dad was very sick this week, but he insisted that he take care of himself. At one point he made a mess on the floor and didn’t let anyone help clean up. He didn’t want any help from anyone. We watched him drag himself across the floor and clean up. He was so tired yet so intent on being able to help himself. He stopped eating and taking his medicine. He just wanted to be left alone." In my heart, I could feel the anger building up.

Why didn’t anyone call me? Why didn’t you let someone help you? I wanted to be mad at Cathy and Paul, but I know you and I do know how stubborn you can be. These were your wishes, yes, but I would have gotten your ass up, given you as much food as you could stomach, and made sure you had enough oxygen. I know you and you would have refused, but I would have tried. I would have liked the opportunity to save you.

“Is Alan coming back?” I asked.

“He will be back in a day or two. I think he and your father had spoken before he left about what could happen. I think they were ready for this.”

“Why didn’t anyone call me?” I asked Cathy.

“Your dad didn’t want anyone to know what was happening.” Cathy looked sad and regretful.

At this point Paul and Cathy could see I was upset and tried to go over the last week. Paul spoke about the work happening on the farm, how several people came and went from the house meeting with you and sharing stories. He said that you continued to shout orders at the 20+ people working on the property and never lost any of your spirit. It was nice to hear that you were yourself, even though your body was not cooperating.

“Thank you for being there with him, it sounds like you guys did your best.” I said to both Cathy and Paul.

I remember being there with you the weekend before. A part of me wanted to stay there with you and I should have. But I didn’t ask you what you wanted. I just sat with you and spoke about your health and appointments. I reminded you to speak with Alan about your wishes, how you might want to start writing things down. You nodded at me saying, “Okay, okay, I will.” I handed you your medicine and kissed you goodbye. You kissed me back and replied, “I love you, baby.” I replied with an “I love you too.” Anna shortly arrived after Cathy and Paul and we all sat down and chatted about various things to pass the time. Paul let us know what happened the night before.

“He just sat there, all day. He wanted to write some things down and that’s what he did. All day he wrote with a pen and paper at his desk. He didn’t want to be disturbed so we left him alone. At this point he knew it was the end. He knew it was his time. I think he wanted to have control over the end, you know?” Paul was doing his best.

“No one saw what he was writing?” I asked, very curious.

“Nope, and we don’t know what he did with it either. It should turn up.” Paul said with a smile

I like Paul. He told me how you helped him back on his feet a long time ago. How he was basically homeless and you found him housing and a job. I’m glad he was there for you, giving back. He thought so highly of you, so many people did.

It had been about an hour, we checked in with the nurse but we were told to keep waiting. A doctor came in to speak with the children in the corner. It sounded like their father had come in little while earlier. He was in some kind of accident and wasn’t doing well. The doctor spoke softly and you could hear the children getting more and more upset. As the doctor walked away I looked over, the family was embracing each other. One little girl was walking around crying uncontrollably, trying to find something to hold on too. I was envious of them, because they had some information. I was just sitting there feeling powerless and keeping still.